Hate
by darkanine
Summary: In which everyone's favorite homicidal basket case simply lives his life. T for somewhat graphic violence.


"LOOK AT ME WHEN I SCREAM INTO YOUR SOUL!"

A sickening crunch and a sick sucking noise followed as Krieg's buzz axe found its mark in the skull of an unfortunate bandit and he pulled it out almost immediately to swing wildly at the next idiot stupid enough to get close to him. The posse of bandits outnumbered and outgunned the crazed behemoth, but the odds seemed to have little bearing on the tides of the battle as one after one they fell before his addled rage.

Somehow, that was the norm. As big as he was, Krieg's opponents were typically shaking too hard to aim at him properly while he tore their companions to shreds before their eyes. Not that it would matter much if they _were_ able to hit him. His mind was in ruins save for a small part of him that remembered life before… before whatever _this_ was. At the moment, though, that part of his mind was more or less enjoying the spectacle. These guys probably weren't Hyperion, but they certainly weren't innocent bystanders so if Krieg wanted to flay their scalps and swallow their souls, then who was he to stand in the way of his own happiness?

The number of bandits dwindled as they either dropped in a bloody heap at the Psycho's boots or ran away shrieking, the slowest of whom received a buzz saw between the shoulder blades when Krieg turned around and discovered with something like dismay that there were no more enemies near enough to take out with his bare hands. He walked slowly over to the man on the ground as he tried to crawl away, the gravel crunching beneath his boots with each step. His axe made a wet noise as he placed a foot on the unfortunate bandit's back and yanked it free, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked off, a new spring in his step after the bloodbath.

The sane part of his mind – we'll call him Craig, for the time being – almost urged him to go back and finish the job, but decided against it. He settled instead for a bit of advice. _You should grab one of those guns they dropped. That axe isn't going to cut it forever._

"I will use their patellas to decorate my fish tank!" Krieg proclaimed, waving his buzz axe in the air in an almost cheery manner.

_Sigh._ Could a being that manifested as nothing more than a voice inside someone's head sigh? Well, if he couldn't, he would have, but he didn't suppose it mattered much since nobody but this idiot could even hear him, and even then he didn't think the big idiot was completely tuned in most of the time. _The fish are dead. You let them die because you didn't listen to me when I told you that you needed to feed them, or that you couldn't shake the tank, or that you shouldn't put it in the microwave. There are no fish, they do not want any kneecaps. You need a gun._

"Get out of my head," the shirtless maniac muttered, a little more subdued now that the adrenaline of battle was starting to wear off. Nonetheless, he stooped on his way past one of the mangled corpses and grabbed a pistol of some variety, not bothering to look it over before jamming it into the front of his pants and slinging his axe back over his shoulder.

_Would if I could, bud,_ Craig responded somewhat bitterly, though at this point he was sure that Krieg had changed the channel on his disastrously short attention span back to meat bicycles or something similarly unpleasant. He had never been a particularly squeamish individual, but some of the things that his counterpart shouted in the heat of battle would have been enough to wrinkle his nose, if he still had any control of the muscles in their face. Then again, he wasn't sure that trading places with the broken mind that currently controlled their shared body would be much better. Acting as a conscience of sorts was stressful enough, but having to go about day to day life in the muscular body that Krieg had built for murder with that psycho's voice pining for blood in the back of his mind would be nigh unbearable.

_So, where are we going?_

"Must continue the slaughter! I will bathe in meat chunks!"

_You don't have any idea, do you?_

"Gonna put my thumbs in your eye sockets!"

_They're your eye sockets too._

"I HATE YOU."

* * *

**Right, so... This is pretty much just a writing exercise, at this point. Krieg is a fabulous character and I really couldn't resist trying to write as him. I think I did a decent job. **

**Anyways, I'm not sure if I'm going to end up continuing this. I'm completely re-writing my Bioshock fanfic (for those of you who followed me primarily for that story, I'm sorry for the long hiatus, I swear I'm working on it), working, getting ready to go back to school, not to mention the fact that I don't really have a direction for this story to take. I suppose we'll have to see. Might not be able to stay away from the character, to be honest, so it's highly probable that I'll wind up posting short chapters like this one with no real plot behind them. Whatever. **

**Let me know if you like it/want me to continue it, at any rate.**


End file.
